Breaking All That Ever Was
by Demonforged
Summary: The Darkness is always there...you cannot escape. Fate rests perilously in the hands of precious few. Chapter 14 is up. Crossever: Forgotten Realms,Dragonlance,Lord Of The Rings
1. The beginning

Drizzt brought Icingdeath to block and brought the other scimitar up to slash the pirate's throat in one smooth action even as he turned to block yet another blow from the dead pirate's companion. Twinkle twisted in midair to slash deceptively low at his opponent, the pirate's clumsy block hardly stopping the scimitar from piercing his heart.

A spinning war hammer flew past Drizzt's shoulder to smash into the head of another pirate. The man's head exploded; brains and blood splattering many of those near, causing terrified moans from the dirty bunch.

"Nice shot boy!" Bruenor roared as he finished his own pirate off with a savage blow to cut the man in half.

The remaining pirates lost their nerve and fled, screaming as they ran down the alley. Silver streaks helped lift many off their feet as Catti-Brie coolly aimed arrow after arrow from her bow.

"Was that all of them?"

Drizzt turned to look at a sheepish Regis as the plump halfling nursed a bruised head.

"Rumblebelly!" The dwarf cut in before Drizzt could answer. The threatening tone sent the halfling squeaking and trying to hide behind the drow.

A hand grabbed Regis around his collar and the halfling found himself looking at dwarf with a flaming red beard.

"Mercy! I can explain!" Regis said, quaking under the intimidating beard.

"Let him go." Wulfgar offered, "He cannot run away."

Bruenor reluctantly released the halfling but glowered fiercely at Regis.

"Well?" Catti-Brie said, saying the unasked question.

"I-I think I-"

Bruenor scowled.

"I-I forgot who the guild head was." Regis hurriedly squeaked; his plump features rather pale.

"And?" Drizzt added.

"I forgot I lost my ruby..."

"So ye tried to convince them with a fake?" Bruenor roared.

The halfling quailed and a muffled "yes" was heard.

The sturdy dwarf threw up his hands in disgust and turned to talk to Drizzt.

"Would you believe him?" Bruenor grumbled as Catti-Brie helped Regis to his feet.

Drizzt chuckled softly.

"This is Regis you are talking about, you know."

"Damn Rumblebelly eats and sleeps all day-I'd like to see him mining away with my boys back at Mirthil Hall, or to see him practice fighting with Pwent and the boys."

"Pwent would manage to kill a giant by accident. Leave him with your Gutbusters and we'll be mourning for him the next day." Drizzt said dryly.

"As if I'd mourn for that lazy bones."

Catti-Brie elbowed her adoptive father in his ribs, although she had to slightly bend to do it.

"Quit acting so gruff you old fibber." Catti-Brie said with a twinkle in her eye.

"Eh? Me own girl is calling me fibber ain't she?"

"Yea, and ye know ye are."

Bruenor roared with laughter and slapped Catti-Brie affectionately on her back. The woman slightly wheezed at the force of the blow but smiled.

"Where are we going to stay tonight?" Catti-Brie asked.

"Don't look at me," Wulfgar said, shrugging, "I only stayed in one tavern for all my time here."

A flash of pain crossed the barbarian's eyes as he thought of a certain demon.

In the awkward silence that followed, Regis piped up.

"I know a place called Evals Tavern. It's really a nice place-the finest luxury inn around here."

"Have you been in there?" Drizzt questioned, noting the excited look in the halfling's eyes.

"No," Regis admitted. "But Pook was always describing the place, bragging about it to me-how much income it took in and everything."

Drizzt shook his head.

"I really don't think we ought to..."

"Bah, elf!" Bruenor snorted. "Ye lived poorly during that recent Thousand Orcs War-we all think ye deserve a fancy vacation. Besides, I owe ye for killing that Obould."

Drizzt sighed and let himself tail after the group.

Drizzt stayed near the shadows as Bruenor handed over a pouch of coins without complaint. The others stood awe stricken at the impressive display of wealth surrounding them that made Mirthil Hall seem almost poor in comparison. The wall was made of huge pieces of solid marble; the floor made of a huge, priceless silk carpet with real gold and silver thread making a giant eye design on the carpet. The lights in the huge chandelier were brilliantly glowing diamonds suspended in the air.

Drizzt shivered as he looked around. This reminded him too much of house Do'Urden, the beauty seeming to cover up some terrible evil.

"Welcome to Evals Tavern. Would you like to see your rooms?" A tall, muscled man slightly bowed at them, his eyes scrutinizing each, resting finally on the cloaked and hooded figure in the back of the group.

"Indeed." Regis said, before Bruenor could respond.

"Very well. This way please." The man said; sweeping a hand to a staircase made of mirthil and opal. As Bruenor made as if to get on it, the man abruptly stopped him, saying.

"Please sir, your room is on the bottom level. Allow me to guide you after I've shown your companions theirs."

"Is his room the only one on the bottom level?" Drizzt said sharply.

The man shrewdly eyed him. His finger lightly touched a large topaz on his belt as he gazed at Drizzt. He suddenly relaxed and smiled in a friendly manner although the smile did not reach into his eyes.

"It is good sir. Unless you would like to trade your upper level room with your friend's?"

Drizzt frowned, feeling like he had somehow been neatly placed in a trap.

"Bah, let him have my room if he wants. The rooms are all the same aren't they?"

"Yes, indeed." The man blandly replied.

Drizzt followed the group up the stairs and walked into a huge circular hall. As the group was each shown their rooms, Drizzt slipped an onyx panther figurine into a startled Catti-Brie's hand.

"I don't trust this place." Drizzt murmured softly. "Keep an eye on everyone and try not to let anyone wander off alone. I would set Guenhwyvar loose in the hall until we leave."

Drizzt broke off and swiftly turned to stop the approach of the man.

"Take me down to my room." Drizzt said.

"As you wish." The man agreed, bowing slightly, almost mockingly.

They walked down in silence until they reached a smooth obsidian door nestled the back of a maze of turns. The man held a finger to the topaz on his belt as he opened the door. Drizzt cautiously padded in, his senses heightened as he ignored the finery and gazed around the walls.

"Your dinner is on the table sir." The man said. "Enjoy."

With that, he shut the door, leaving Drizzt alone in the room.

Drizzt had thoroughly covered the perimeter of the room before he cautiously sat down on an obsidian chair heaped with purple silk cushions. Lavender eyes narrowed as he gingerly sniffed his wine. The smell was slightly sweeter than the usual scent of wine and Drizzt pushed it away. There was carved roast beef, cut so thinly as so that the individual slices were almost transparent. He gingerly cut off a sliver of roast beef and chewed carefully. The taste was savory yet too salty in Drizzt's opinion. He automatically reached for the wine, stopped, and then fought an unexpected, random urge to laugh. His hand seized the glass of wine and the rich blood red liquid dribbled down his chin, which he wiped off with the silk tablecloth. He let a small hiccuping giggle escape him as he swayed and fell into the soft sheets of his bed.

Guenhwyvar growled softly and sank deeper back into the shadows as she heard stealthy steps on the stairs. Her ears flattened to her sides and she scratched urgently on Catti-Brie's door. There was a slight squeal as her claws slid down the polished door and the footsteps stopped. Then there was a low laugh and the footsteps continued. Guenhwyvar gave up trying to wake Catti-Brie and melted into the shadows again. The slightest wrong move and the men would be dead before they realized it.

The men grinned as the door opened to reveal a dark form on the bed, seemingly fast asleep. Bolder now, they walked swaggering to the figure. As they bent over to shackle chains to the dark form's hands and feet, violet eyes suddenly snapped open.

Drizzt's foot lashed out; clipping a surprised man on his jaw as a previously hidden scimitar darted to the other man's throat.

"B-But the poison-" The man said, eyes wide and astonished as the seemingly unconscious drow sent a black fist to land squarely between his eyes.

Drizzt spat out the sliver of beef in his mouth. He had tasted the poison in it and had pretended to be under its influence to see what the Evals Tavern would do afterwards. Now he knew.

"Slavers." The drow growled and ran through the open door to the commotion that he was sure he was going to find upstairs.

The instant the men started to open Catti-Brie's door, Guenhwyvar leaped down with a roar and slapped one man's head with her paw-claws extended.

The man screamed as she roared again and crushed his head against the wall.

The other man turned, screaming and disappeared down the hall. Guenhwyvar didn't give chase, as she smelt a familiar and welcome scent in the air. The man's cries abruptly stopped to a low moan and a drow with purple eyes quickly ran into sight. The panther growled a warm welcome at her master as Drizzt knelt down besides her.

"Good job Guenhwyvar. Help me open their doors now."

The panther took a few steps back and flew into Bruenor's door. The dwarf was snoring on his bed as Drizzt took the half-empty wine bottle and dunked the contents over the dwarf's head. When that caused no reaction besides a gurgling snore, Drizzt slapped Bruenor's face as hard as he could with the flat of Icingdeath's cold blade. Bruenor woke up with a strangled howl.

"Flaming Nine Hells-Drizzt! Ye-"

"Hush!" Drizzt's hand clamped momentarily over the outraged dwarf's mouth. "These people here are slavers. Come help me wake up Wulfgar and Regis. Guenhwyvar will wake Catti-Brie."

Regis smacked his lips and rolled over to his side, dreaming of the succulent meal he had just eaten. There was an insistent voice his head calling his name, a voice that refused to go away.

"Rumblebelly!"

The halfling woke up immediately after being shaken like a doll.

"B-Bruenor?" The halfling said, hoping that he was still dreaming.

"Ye got that right." The dwarf scowled. "Leading us into a nest of slavers!"

"S-slavers?"

Drizzt appeared with Guenhwyvar and Catti-Brie at his sides.

You leave now," The drow indicated the open window, while holding up a long coil of rope. "I plan to seek out the leader of these slavers."

"Bah elf, you'll be taking-"

"-Up all the fun." Drizzt agreed. "But the bunch of you would attract too much attention and a snake without a head is a dead snake. I do not wish for too much bloodshed." Drizzt said sincerely, remembering the Thousand Orcs War.

Catti-Brie shook her head.

"Ye need to have me with ye at least to cover your back."

"Guenhwyvar can also do it." Drizzt stated flatly.

Catti-Brie was taken aback by the way he had said it, as if the ranger didn't want to have her along as if he feared she would be injured. Like Wulfgar.

"Fine." She said, deciding to argue the point later.

Drizzt gazed into her eyes and nodded once, then turned and swiftly disappeared into the darkness.

"Hey," Bruenor said, scratching his head, "The elf forgot his cat."

With a start, Catti-Brie realized the onyx figurine was still clutched in her hand.

Chapter 2---


	2. Saying Goodbye

Chapter 2---

I'd like to thank Shadow Demon for helping me set an outline for this story. If there are any suggestions, please put them up on the review. I will try to contact you and listen to your opinions. Thank all of you readers out there for your comments and compliments!

Drizzt stopped, shrinking into the shadows at the base of the stairs as he cautiously listened for any sounds. Seeing that the coast was clear, Drizzt slipped across the passage like a fleeting shadow. Suddenly, he felt a tingle on his skin and he silently cursed, his innate abilities picking up the sense of magic being used. He quickly rolled aside as small sparks floated down from the ceiling, trying to dodge them. His blades whirled around him defensively as he lunged towards the door at the end of the hall. He shouldered the door and slipped into total darkness.

The drow tried to switch his eyes to the infrared spectrum but he could still not see anything, proof that it was a magical darkness. He let himself sink into his senses, his whole being focused on finding sounds and presences. The Hunter welled up inside him...no. Drizzt frantically shook his head, loosing his concentration. Shivering, he pulled his arms closer together as he tried to expel the Hunter from his system. He was Drizzt! Not the primal creature of vengeance and rage-not like a creature that knew nothing but blood.

In the second he had lost his concentration, there was a faint click and the area was flooded with a glaring light. Drizzt winced, flinching as the light struck his eyes as he switched back to his normal vision. The drow squinted; his skin crawling with a sense of danger and alertness as a tall, muscular man strode out boldly to the center of the hall.

"You." Drizzt accused.

"Yes, me." Replied the man in a bored tone. "Who else can I be?"

"You are a slaver." Drizzt stated flatly, as he scrutinized the man. A crooked dagger gleamed on his hip, along with a whip.

"Plenty of people out there. Quite a profitable business actually. There's no shortage of people who would pay dearly to have a women like the lovely companion of yours." The man smirked before Drizzt leaped forward, scimitars out.

The man just stood there, his smile growing as he noted the fluid grace and speed that Drizzt possessed.

Drizzt turned Icingdeath aside at the last possible moment and whirled to the right, glaring at the slaver, who turned to face the drow with a sneering smile on his face. The fact that the man did not bother to try to defend himself left Drizzt suspicious of a trap. The drow reached into his purse and threw a heavy gold coin at the man with blinding speed. The coin aimed true...and bounced off.

"Very smart, ranger Do'Urden." The man said, showing his teeth in a humorless grin, his eyes gleaming as Drizzt started. "Yes, I know who you are; in fact I knew you the moment I saw you. You're quite famous, Drizzt. Famous enough that many people would offer both arms and legs to have you."

"But enough talk-let us spar!" The slaver exclaimed. "The best of all warriors against a stoneskin enchantment."

Drizzt flipped out of the way as the man let fly with his long black whip. The tip crashed against the wall and cracks appeared in the solid gold. The shock wave blasted Drizzt off of his feet, and he barely managed to catch himself before becoming a red stain on the wall.

He ducked as a stream of crooked daggers flew at him. Twinkle and Icingdeath wove together in a fluid dance, always managing to deflect the daggers. And yet, the daggers still came.

Suddenly, Drizzt understood. "Illusions." He breathed, and summoned a globe of darkness.

A stream of coins hurtled out of the darkness and weakened the stoneskin enchantment as Drizzt silently zigzagged to the spot where the slaver stood. A thunderous crack pierced the air as he dodged to the left. A faint whistle was all that alerted him before he flipped backwards, the blast from another crack of the whip throwing him against the wall.

"Useless, my dear ranger." The man cackled. "I can still see you despite that interesting magical ability of yours."

Drizzt snarled, shoulders shaking, and let the Hunter take over-for what he desperately hoped-the last time. The drow sprang up and ran to the slaver. He briefly dispelled the darkness globe long enough to see the topaz pulsing with magic on the man's belt. The Hunter barely changed his course as the whip lashed out perilously close, his balance so perfect that he didn't even sway from the shock wave. Icingdeath came up and smacked against the stoneskin enchantment while Twinkle smoothly defended against the man's skilled thrusts of his dagger. The Hunter dipped Icingdeath low and stabbed hard at the topaz. There was a sudden hum in the air as the topaz flared with angry light.

There was a small popping noise as the stoneskin enchantment died. The man's eyes widened in shock as the next move from Twinkle removed the crooked dagger from his hand. Icingdeath pricked the skin at the base of his throat as the Hunter glared at him with merciless eyes.

"I have a offer Drizzt Do'Urden." The slaver said, looking carefully into the exotic lavender eyes of the Hunter, "Your friends' lives for you."

Drizzt's eyes narrowed. He had barely stopped the Hunter from completely taking over, but he was tempted to let his vicious state of mind return after hearing the man's words.

"I could kill you right now." Drizzt growled. "Your lies cannot stop me."

"Do you know what was in the poison that they ate? Do you ranger Do'Urden?" The man said, taking courage at Drizzt's silence as he went on. "It is poison made in a land far across the Sea of Swords...as is the antidote."

"They will feel fine until the next hour. And then, horrible stomach pains will seize them as the poison eats away at their gut. Kill me, and you will have doomed your friends. Give yourself up, Drizzt. Give yourself up, and let your friends live." He finished in a silky whisper as he watched the struggle in the drow's eyes.

He allowed his hand to reach up and flick away the ranger's hood, smiling triumphantly when the drow made no attempt to stop him.

"Let me up." He prompted.

"The antidote." Drizzt said, keeping his scimitar leveled at the slaver's throat.

"Very well." The man sighed, and reached into his belt for a small vial of clear green liquid. "But this is only enough for a temporary relief. After you've delivered this to your friends, I suggest you come back immediately so that I can send some more over. After all, they need to take a drop daily to stop the pain."

Drizzt snatched the bottle and strode out of the hall.

"Don't try to get a wizard to duplicate the antidote." The slaver called out at Drizzt's back. "It doesn't work. Why else do you think we carry such an unique poison that has to be shipped from a land far across the sea?"

"There he is!" Catti-Brie exclaimed in relief as a familiar figure moved towards them.

"Did he get hurt?" Wulfgar quietly remarked, noticing the slumped shoulders.

"Hurt? Boy, this is Drizzt against some stupid slaver. Ye think the elf which took down Obould would have trouble with a squealing slaver?" Bruenor snorted, grimacing as he absently rubbed his stomach.

There was a faint moan coming from a plump, miserable form on the ground. Drizzt slowed at the noise, his keen ears picking up the sound even as he noted Bruenor's grimace. Both sights caused silent anguish to build up in his heart as slender fingers gripped the vial for reassurance.

"Drizzt, we need to-Be there something that ye are troubled over?" Catti-Brie noted worriedly, cutting off her lecture she was ready to deliver as she saw the carefully blank face that he used to hide his true emotions.

"Nothing really." He responded, then reluctantly parted with a bit of information. "I gave the slaver his life in return for an antidote."

"For what-oh." Regis said, and looked up hopefully at Drizzt. "Does it cure this pain in the stomach?"

"I did wonder if we were poisoned." Admitted Catti-Brie as she allowed her hands to rest gingerly on her abdomen. "Seeing that Bruenor and Regis weren't feeling too good. Wulfgar?"

"The same." The barbarian admitted, "Although I thought I merely drank too much of that strong wine."

Drizzt hesitated, and then produced a vial of green liquid from his belt.

"Here," He said, passing it to Catti-Brie. "Take only a drop each for the pain."

Drizzt gazed at the sleeping forms of his friends in the flickering light of the campfire. They had gone out of Luskan to camp in the woods that surrounded the city. He closed his eyes and tried to hold that image in his mind, fighting to keep the despair from overwhelming him. He had known such anguish once, when he thought that the other Companions of the Hall had been killed at Shallows by the Thousand Orcs army.

Bruenor grunted, and rolled over in his sleep, snoring loudly all the time. He would never hear the dwarf grumpily complaining again about him taking all the fun, or see the dwarf ever again. And Wulfgar...no more times fighting side by side with the mighty barbarian as they cut through their enemies. He would never see Regis dodging into a hiding hole as they fought, or carving figures out of the skulls of knuckle-headed trout.

His gaze finally fell to the smooth features of Catti-Brie, her face half hidden by her brilliant auburn hair. Catti-Brie, he thought, you were one of the first ones to accept me for what I was on the inside, and not judge me by the color of my skin.

"I love you." Drizzt whispered.

He took out faithful Guenhwyvar and stroked the figurine as he placed it by Catti-Brie's side. Then, he stood up and turned to face his friends one last time.

"Forgive me."


	3. A Tool of the Gods

I'm sorry for being so lazy! I know this is a short chapter, but give me a break! I had to write it in less than one hour. REVIEWS KEEP ME HAPPY. I REFUSE TO PUBLISH ANOTHER CHAPTER UNTIL I HAVE AT LEAST 16 REVIEWS 

Drizzt stopped before the edge of the forest, clutching tightly to a tree trunk.

"What was wrong with me?" He muttered to himself, the wood splintering under the force of his fingers. "Just do it dammit! You're not worth as much as them…not worthy."

Even to his ears, the words sounded lame and half-hearted, and he let himself slide against the trunk to rest at the base of the tree, bright lavender eyes clearly reflecting his inner turmoil.

"Coward." He muttered through his hands as he wearily clutched his face. He felt something warm drip from his fingers, and dazedly noticed splinters in them, crimson blood dripping from the wounds. A drop fell upon his cheek, looking like he was crying blood.

A soft whinny sounded near his ear and he turned his head to see a pure white unicorn standing by him.

Immediately, he gasped and stood up gracefully to bow respectfully before his goddess's chosen. It nickered and lightly pranced, seemingly like a piece of the wind, yet as delicate as a new spring bloom. The unicorn lightly leaped in front of Drizzt, blocking his way to the city as it gave a slight rear, front hooves daintily pawing the sir.

"But…" Drizzt exclaimed, his words cut of as the unicorn shook its head, snorting as it lowered its long ivory horn at him. Its intentions could not have been clearer as it walked towards him, horn still lowered. Drizzt walked back a step, and the unicorn moved forward a step.

"Do not herd me back to them." Drizzt found himself saying. "I must do this for my friends."

The creature gave a snort, stepping even closer.

Drizzt held his ground, his breath catching as the unicorn advanced on him, until its horn rested lightly on his shoulder. A soft golden light flowed from its horn as it gazed at him with liquid emerald eyes. Suddenly a blood-red light formed briefly around Drizzt and lanced towards the unicorn. The creature screamed sharply in pain as the light hit it on its chest, stumbling backwards in agony. Eyes angry, it stubbornly walked towards the astonished Drizzt, only to shy away as the same light flared warningly.

"What magic is this?" Drizzt said horrified as the unicorn weakly limped out of sight. "Am I so evil now for the slaughter I had wrecked that the unicorns cannot even touch me?" A shiver ran down his spine at that possibility.

He headed towards the shadows of the city wall, the strange incident only adding to his inner turmoil.

"What did you mean to do, hurting my envoy like that?"

The angry voice echoed in the marble room as Lloth turned to sneer at a beautiful, but evidently distressed woman with long pale gold hair.

"What did you mean to do yourself, interfering with Lord Galiead's plan?" Lloth shot back at her hated nemesis, savoring the look of stunned confusion in the woman's eyes, coupled with betrayal. She had been quite displeased when informed of the high god's plan earlier today, and enjoyed the reprieve from her moody thoughts that hurting her rival granted her.

"W-What plan?"

Lloth smirked.

"A plan that I will carry out, concerning the renegade."

Oh? What happens next? Find out in the next chapter…ONLY IF YOU REVIEW!


	4. Was it worth it?

Drizzt fought the bile rising in his throat as he emerged from the shadows to silently step in front of the slaver.

The man smiled toothily, his teeth gleaming in the moonlight. Silently, he held up a silver adamantine collar, his action plainly stating his intent. The dark elf felt himself flinch slightly at the sight. He could face an army of Orcs without batting an eye, but the sight of the collar, so symbolical of his fate, almost had him ready to kill himself from the shame.

So that eagle flew 

_Proud and fierce_

_Striking fear into enemies_

The collar gleamed as it was carefully placed around a slender ebony neck. Rough hands brushed away snow pale strands of hair away as the collar magically sealed itself with a faintly audible click.

_He seemed to have_

_No weakness_

_Seemingly undefeatable_

He sagged, violet eyes expressing his shock at how quickly his life had turned, and a slight look of betrayal crossed his face. Betrayal by the world, his friends, his father, his goddess, and even his morals. Baseless for such emotions, and he quickly rid himself of the thought, horrified that he would even dare to think about it.

But that eagle did have a weakness 

_His Heart…_

_What he thought was his strength_

_Was a double edged blade_

"Was it worth it?" The slaver said quietly, motioning for Drizzt to follow. His eyes caught the glint of a silver bracelet, similar to his collar on the man's wrist as he turned. "Your friends would have suffered, but you would have been free."

Keen on both sides 

_Quick and sharp to draw blood_

_Regardless_

_Of the pain caused_

"It was worth it." Drizzt said so softly that the man had to strain to hear. "It will always be worth it." They were now on the road to the dock, the water glinting silver as it reflected the moon, a silent witness to Drizzt's pain.

_Pain in sacrifice_

_Pain to protect_

_Pain of the burden_

_Of friendship and trust_

"I've never had friends." The slaver mused, not turning to look at Drizzt as they reached the dock, a cold biting sea breeze piercing the skin like a thousand tiny needles. "I've had partners who I had to trust. But not a friend. Never a friend who would care for me enough to sell himself into slavery so that I would live."


	5. Similarities are only skin deep

THANK YOU FOR THE REVIEWS! THIS IS THE CHAPTER WHERE IT BEGINS TO CROSSOVER.

Drizzt fought hard not to gag as he neared the slave trip. The reek of sweat and urine was pungent in the air, as well as the less visible aura of evil that encompassed the groaning wooden monstrosity that seemed to only reluctantly stay afloat on the dark water.

The dark elf stopped a few feet away from the ship, a serene and calm mask on his face as he turned his head to see his surroundings for what seemed to be his last time. There was a look of longing and bleakness in his eyes though as he turned his head away from the sight, only to turn into a look of firm determination as he looked upon the ship.

The slaver's loud voice pierced the air.

"Peterson!"

A faintly heard oath, and a muffled thud later, a man appeared, peering over the rails as he looked for them. Slightly bloodshot eyes wandered for a minute before fixing on the two tiny figures below.

"I have a drow here for you. Take good care of this one until you reach those isles will you?"

The reply was fired back instantaneously, along with a barely bit back curse.

"You want me to have a goddamned drow aboard? You're outta your mind, it'll murder us all in our sleeps! Better to kill it and sell its blood. Mages pay a high price for dark elf blood."

Drizzt was getting annoyed, although the talk about killing him had not fazed him the least. Death was something he would willing accept over slavery, however…

"For one, I am not an _it_, my name is Drizzt Do'Urden. Second, I have never murdered in cold blood, so you may put aside me slaying you in your sleep. I am quite willing to face you in a duel."

The was an astonished silence, before the man aboard started roaring with laughter.

"You've got a feisty one there don't you? An honorable drow…hilarious! So tell me about it to the flaming nine hells!"

"You buy me two rounds of ale when you get back and I will."

"Sure, sure." The man waved it off as he disappeared and reappeared seconds later with a thin, sickly wizard dressed in red robes. Drizzt felt his hackles rising as oddly golden eyes coolly surveyed him, the potential for malice evident in his coldly cunning gaze.

"A fine specimen." The wizard said after a few minutes of intense study, his voice a soft sinister whisper, and without further ado, pointed at Drizzt. The wizard's lips slightly moved and the dark elf fought back a surge of instinctive panic at being bespelled as he was roughly lifted into the air by the magic and deposited on deck, where Peterson instantly swung a brutal fist against the drow's unprotected head.

Drizzt crumpled to the deck, unconscious. The no doubt rapidly bruise he acquired from the blow did not show on his pure black skin, and he looked like a sleeping fallen angel, his striking white hair forming a halo around his delicate elven features.

Raistlin's eyebrow rose delicately, and a sneer momentarily graced thin lips before a sudden coughing fit overtook him. Gasping, his golden skin turning pale, the mage sank besides Drizzt, bent almost double with wracking pain before he finally managed to cough up a fair amount of coppery blood. The red liquid splattered his trembling, thin hands as some warm blood dripped down his hands to stain the drow's white hair.

But no, not only the drow's white hair, but his white hair as well. Fascinated, his hourglass pupils stared intently at the hair. They looked so similar, but even then, his vision turned his hair in blackish dust while the elf's remained a pure snowy white, stained with tiny drops of blood.

Inwardly, the mage sighed with longing before tottering up. He immediately became incensed as he saw Peterson's pitying gaze, and hissed.

The man immediately grew pale and started to stutter in apology. Satisfied at the reaction, he clasped his staff tightly as he turned to head back to his cabin.

"Pay the man, Peterson. And throw the drow in solitary confinement. Give him some food and water when he wakes, no chains. And do not disturb me for small matters. Understood?"

With that, Raistlin left the bowing man behind to slip into the welcome shadows.


	6. Encounter

Anyone here goes to Neopets? You should sign up and chat with me. My username's Silverdragonstar. Look me up! Oh, and review 33 and I'll add in the new chapter.

There was an insistent stabbing pain in his head, a throbbing that brought him painfully back from unconsciousness. Waves of nausea rolled violently through him as he painfully opened his eyes, his long lashes fluttering as a painful light pierced his sensitive eyes.

He was in a medium sized room, lying on a worn, but clean and serviceable bed. The source of the irritating light was a bright ball of magelight hovering by his bedside, causing him to recollect where he was. It was not helped when the ship gave a violent lurch, causing Drizzt to be intensely sick as he instantly rolled over to the side of his bed and threw up the remains of his last dinner with his friends. Someone must have anticipated his reaction because a large wooden bucket was strategically placed right by his bedside, now rapidly being filled with a rather unsightly mix of regurgitated, halfway digested food.

The elf scowled as he gingerly touched where Peterson's fist had impacted against his skull. He would have been easily able to block it, but the mage's power held him firmly in place. Ah yes, the mage.

Right on cue, there was a tiny squeal was the door opened to his room, and Drizzt reflexively dropped into a ready crouch. Sharp amethyst eyes already finished sweeping the room for weapons as several immediate choices popped into his head to use against enemies…before he remembered why he had submitted to this in the first place.

"Speak of the devil." Drizzt muttered as a figure stepped into the room.

Raistlin let his lips curl as he turned to face the tense dark elf, his movements unnervingly silent for a human. There was a thick silence as both occupants glared at each other, neither one willing to turn away first. The two strong wills clashed silently, escalating dangerously before a timely voice intruded, possibly stopping a disaster from erupting.

"Hey you! Get away from there…Ah! Er, Master Raistlin, pardon me." Peterson abruptly seemed to diminish in size as the golden gaze seemed to pierce him. The man quickly retreated, almost seeming to whimper as he fled.

"He seems to fear you."

Drizzt softly uttered the words, breaking the silence, yet the look in Raistlin's eyes was undeniably spiteful with a hint of bitterness.

"He should. And you should too, drow." Raistlin said in a snakelike whisper. "If you know what's good for you."

"But I don't, I'm afraid." Drizzt spread his arms out in a disarming gesture, a humorless grin flashing on a handsome ebony face. "Some would even say that death and I are very old acquaintances indeed."

The bitterness in Raistlin's eyes was suddenly even more pronounced than ever.

A sneer graced the mage's face as he replied. "You think you and death are old acquaintances?" Drizzt was puzzled at the self-loathing and hatred in the venomous voice as the sickly mage continued, trembling with rage. "I see death with these accursed eyes. Everything I see withers with time except for the immortal elves like yourself, who don't know the magnitude of the gift they've been bestowed upon. Every day I live is with the fact that death with claim me with this body plagued by sickness, a sickness I must pay for my power!"

By this time, Raistlin was panting hoarsely, fighting to keep back the cough building as flecks of saliva coated his lips. Delicate golden hands grasped the wooden frame of the door with sudden violence, splintering the wood as Raistlin silently convulsed, leaning heavily against the doorframe as his chest heaved, desperately trying to suck in air as he gave into the vicious cough he was trying to suppress.

Drizzt immediately started forward to help, but was stopped by the mage's bloodshot glare as Raistlin's thin frame shook violently with each coughing spasm.

Darkness started to rim Raistlin's vision and the images blurred, hazy in his eye. With a sickening dread, he realized that he might die from the severity of this one. Silently, he cursed. It was him high blood pressure from his worked up emotions that probably caused this one to be so violent. He thought that he had learned to control his emotions long ago, but evidently not.

Meanwhile, Drizzt was getting seriously worried over the health of the mage…

REVIEWER RESPONSES

HumbleMaster-I know! Adding Raistlin in gives a little spice to the story too

LadyJanelly-Truly art thou a fair lady for your wondrous words

Redstarred191-Thank you! sniff

DemonOfShadow-My most faithful reviewer of all time! Thanks for sticking with me. But you haven't reviewed the last chapter…

sYnergY's Duality-Did you know that it was your review that made me write again?

Itsuki Tachibana-Critic! Oh well, I'm glad you took the time to analyze and point out my mistakes. Double thanks!

Oracle10-Fancy seeing you here…

Calendae-You ought to review me again. Please?

Zammy-Did you enter in THREE anonymous reviews for the 16 Reviews thingy? Hah! You didn't think I would be fooled right?


	7. Getting to know you

With a barely noticeable moment of hesitation, Drizzt quickly moved to the ailing mage's side. Experienced hands held the mage in the most comfortable position possible as he applied a series of solid thumps on the thin back, landing precisely on critical points on the mage's back to force the sticky blood out from the mage's lungs along with trapped carbon dioxide.

His vision blurred and rapidly turning dark, Raistlin's mind was working on the lowest levels possible, the primal struggle for survival the only thing on his mind. Slowly, he became aware of a warm, comforting presence, and the steady throbbing of another's heart calming his own agitated pulse. Suddenly, a series of blows to his back caused the air to rush out of his already feeble lungs, and he arched his back, golden hourglass eyes wide with strain as the sudden burst of air forced a choking wad of almost black blood out of his mouth. He weakly whimpered as his mouth was firmly held open and a quick ebony finger swiped out the remaining sticky substance from Raistlin's mouth.

The warm presence holding him sighed and the mage felt soft silky strands of hair tickle him as the figure shook its head. A slight shift of the body, and the presence got halfway up, hands gently lowering him to the floor. Desperately, a golden hand shot up and grabbed a startled ebony one as Raistlin weakly tried to bring himself closer to the gentle soothing warmth that this angel emitted, healing him mentally and physically.

Drizzt felt an instinctive surge of protectiveness at the touching scene as he quickly knelt back down and buried the mage's head against his shoulder. He was sure what he saw was the real Raistlin, the one under that cold mask, this was only a child, lost and alone, buried under his many defenses.

Softly, he sang a haunting lullaby that he had learned from the surface elves. But as he hummed it, he found himself changing the words, speaking of the sense of utter loneliness that both he and the mage shared. Drizzt smiled sadly as he fell into a light elvish slumber, the fading notes of the song haunting his ears as his arms securely encircled around the peacefully sleeping mage, seemingly as to protect him from the hurts of the world.

…

He became aware of a scent. It was a clean soft smell, like the woods and the rain mixed with wood smoke. It smelt right, like it belonged…on a ship?

Raistlin's eyes popped open, golden eyes sweeping the room, ready to glare death at the person who would dare enter his study. Except-Raistlin sighed and plopped his head back on his feather pillow. No one was here. It was probably a wayward trick of his mind. He stared at the painting on the ceiling of his room, eyes roaming over the familiar image of a fallen angle, exiled from heaven, barred from Hell, so lost and alone.

He did not need to see the face of the fallen angle. Nay, not when he knew that face ever since he was born. His face.

"Heaven and Hell, fear me." Raistlin murmured, a truly chilling smile forming on thin lips. "Beware, for I will come to power soon…and none shall stop me."

…

Drizzt eyed the plate set in front of him with a varying mixture of incredibility, amusement, and a bit of disgust. Using a hesitant finger, he gingerly prodded a glistening slimy gray lump and resisted the urge to gag as it quivered violently like rubbery jelly. Was it his imagination, or did it twitch as if still alive?

"What. Is. That. Thing?" Drizzt moaned in horror. "You're not expecting me to eat that are you?"

Peterson's lips twitched, and an evil look appeared in his eyes.

"It's fresh octopus, slave. Finest seafood around. Or would you like to live on starfish?"

The man plucked something from the bucket besides him, where a spindly, very much alive, starfish wiggled futilely in the man's grasp. Tiny suckers tried to attach to the man's hairy skin, repulsively like a leech.

Drizzt almost fainted. Blood and gore he could handle. Stitches applied without anesthetic to multiple deep wounds he could stand without flinching. But this was something that the dark elf warrior could not stand. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to hide into a forest and feast on venison, and to forget about everything he just saw.

Raistlin rounded the corner to stop in his tracks. Curiously enough, the drow was in the kitchen, rapidly turning an odd shade of green that somehow managed to show up on pitch black skin. Peterson was waggling a live starfish on front of the drow's face and there was a twitch from a gray blob on a plate set before Drizzt. Raistlin would have sworn that the blob was alive.

A strange sensation bubbled up his chest, and to his surprise a laugh erupted from his lips.


	8. Stirrings of War

Bruenor cursed a string of obscurities as the stout dwarf furiously waved his axe around. Besides him, Catti-Brie glared grimly at the missing site of Evals Tavern, her knuckles white as her hand unconsciously tightened around her bow as Regis tried futilely to calm down the enraged Dwarven king. Wulfgar merely stood silently, face pale and withdrawn.

Bruenor was still hopping around, his face red to match his beard, so mad that the occasional curious passerby quickly scurried away from the scene after catching a glimpse of him obviously mad enough to feel no regret at seeing a few heads roll. Poor Regis squeaked and ducked as Bruenor nearly chopped off his arm with another wild wave of the heavily notched ax.

"Ye damn drow! What did you think you were doing, sneaking off like that? Ye think I can live with this ye miserable elf?!"

"Calm down Bruenor," Regis soothed. "Yelling won't make a difference. Try to think of a plan to get him back…"

"Me King!"

The voice roared down the street and an exhausted dwarf rolled towards them, cursing as people got in his way. He wore a messenger's tunic, dirtied and worn from the road, but halted respectfully in front of Bruenor.

"What is it?" Regis said, acting as spokesperson. Bruenor however, merely turned around and fixed the dwarf with a bloodshot glare, hands furiously stroking his flaming beard.

"Obould. The Orc King." The messenger panted, shrinking slightly from the frightful look on his king's face. "He's not dead and has raised another army. At least three times the size of the last one with a clan of rogue giants. He's on his way to attack Mirthil Hall." The Dwarven messenger finished, confirming the news as a dawning look of horror appeared on the companions' faces.

Lloth smirked, ruby eyes glowing with vicious satisfaction as she wove her complex web of chaos to perfection. Soon the stage would be set….

Obould growled deep in his throat and in an instant, his servant appeared near his elbow. Grimacing at the sight of the troll, he snapped out a question.

"How many join us? Speak!"

"Three hundred more able warriors, my lord." The remarkably intelligent, if not runty troll responded. "Bringing it to a total of three thousand orcs and ten giants. The slaves are working hard to provide armor and weapon from the rich metal in the hidden mine near the gorge. My lord, if I dare to speak…"

The huge orc grunted.

Taking it for a yes, the troll continued. "Why are chopping down so many trees? We have too much for firewood. For siege weapons, the wood is not the right type. This wood is only good for…" The troll's eyes rolled in confusion as he suddenly realized his answer. "…Ships?"

The great eye of Sauron seemed to burst into hellish flames. Pupils narrowed until they were but thin silts as it gazed far beyond the distant waters of the far seashore.

"Soon." A cruel, feminine voice whispered to him. "It will happen…"

There was a howl as the Uruk-Hai sensed their master's pleasure. The land of Mordor seemed to tremble with anticipation as the Nazgûl took to the air, wheeling around the fiery eye as they slowly flew out of the shadowy realms of Mordor.

Yes…Soon it would begin…

NOTES

Yes people, believe it or not, this is a triple crossover with Forgotten Realms, Dragonlance, _and_ Lord of the Rings. Hey, Bruenor and the gang appeared in this chapter for all you people out there wondering where they were. Hey! My faithful reviewers-here's a note to you all. The reason I put of posting this chapter was because I was waiting for your reviews.


	9. Reflections

IMPORTANT-PLEASE READ: For all you people out there who have been reviewing, especially to the multiple reviewers, I would like to express my sincerest gratitude.** DemonOfShadow** this chapter is dedicated to you for your support. You were the first to review, and you've stuck with grumpy old me the entire wayThank you!

Drizzt shifted restlessly on the simple bed, irritably pushing the blanket away as he stood up to silently pace around, his mind in utter and total turmoil.

He abruptly stopped as he stumbled into a lone ray of moonlight, his eyes tracking the beam to the point of origin. A window was placed high near the ceiling, with a narrow ledge that jutted out from the base of the window invitingly. A gleam appeared in the dark elf's eyes as he surveyed the room. All the furniture was magically sealed into place, as he found on early enough due to a futile attempt to tuck in the chair, so he could not move them to get to the window. However…

The lithe figure of the drow seemed to disappear, than, a slight groan of protesting wood was heard as Drizzt lightly leaped from the headboard of the bed to land lightly on the top of the low storage shelf that had been placed in his room for an obscene reason. Without hesitation, he launched into a muscle-straining flip, incredibly high, narrowly grasping the edge of the protruding ledge with his slim fingers before swinging himself up. He perched daintily on the ledge, easily balancing with his innate elven grace, a rather smug look on his face as his inner troubles were momentarily forgotten in the sheer exhilaration of the death-defying physical stunt.

Suddenly, he remembered why he had gone up on the ledge in the first place. With an eager look of anticipation on his face, he peered out of the window, sighing as he drank in the sight of the softly shining stars, a familiar, soothing sight. His brow abruptly knit in confusion as he found himself staring at completely foreign arrangements of stars, the constellations in which he had looked upon for so many nights on the surface erased from this particular stretch of night sky. Disbelief and a hint of desperation momentarily flashed in the unique amethyst eyes as he slowly, trembling, brought his knees to his chest, lean ebony arms encircling himself as he was bathed in the light of alien stars.

"You wouldn't have wanted me to go." Drizzt said quietly to himself, his melodic voice muffled. "You would have told me to stay and mind my own business. You would have said that it wasn't my fault, so I shouldn't take the blame for everything on my shoulders." Here, he paused, lifting his head slightly as he looked upon the strange stars, twinkling uncertainly at the stranger but still shining upon him with a wary, but comforting light.

"But that wasn't all that made me go, was it?" He said in frustration, his voice suddenly harsh, as if reprimanding himself. "Was I actually getting tired of that life with you? Maybe I unconsciously saw this as a way of leaving, a last sacrifice for you so that I would not be there to witness your inevitable deaths…"

There was a long silence, in which Drizzt gave a nearly inaudible sigh, long white lashes lowering so that his eyes were half lidded , a blank look crafted from many years worth of discipline, the look he had worn so often when he was in Menozabrazzan.

Gradually, his breathing slowed down to a rhythmic rise and fall of the chest. It soon became apparent that the dark elf had escaped from his troubled thoughts and into the dark refuge of sleep.

Raistlin scowled viciously at the impossibly thick spellbook in front of him. Automatically, he began to read the spell, memorizing the archaic words of the devastatingly powerful spell, careful not to say the words out loud.

…Darkness beyond blackest pitch. Deeper than the deepest night. King of darkness, who shines like gold upon the sea of chaos. I call upon thee, and swear myself to thee. Let the fools who stand before me be destroyed by the power you and I posses…

Abruptly, he gasped and hurriedly slapped shut the spellbook, a slight sheen of sweat apparent on his strained, pale features. He forced himself to slow down his pulse, his face grim. The urge to say the words to complete the spell had almost overwhelmed him, but it was not the place. Not yet the time.

He let his gaze fall upon the book, critically, almost cynical. This was probably the rarest, most sought after spellbook in the entire history of magic…the Clair Bible. He let a slight smirk grace his lips. The utter irony of the situation. It seemed more like the spellbook was using him, than he was to it.

"But by then, both of our goals are either achieved, or we're both in a fate worse than Hell." Raistlin whispered dryly as he almost tenderly stroked the golden tome.

Yes…And the world would suffer with them…


	10. Clearing things up

Does anyone know how to spell the name of Drizzt's goddess? Her name begins with an M- and that's all that I seem to be able to remember. By the way, the Clair Bible and the spell of Raistlin's are actually the property of the anime Slayers. Yeah, I know, it's yet another extra crossover thing, but that will be all concerning the Slayers, since I just happened to think they filled the tiny (okay, I lied-not so tiny) role perfectly. TO ALL THE PEOPLE THAT KNOW THE SPELL-PLEASE DO NOT SAY THE NAME IF YOU REVIEW IT AS IT WILL SPOIL THE MEANING FOR OTHERS. Anyway, I'm glad that people are enjoying this so far, so here's an nice big chapter for you all as there have been a lot of requests for longer chapters. Zammy, I say you get yourself a nice little account…a bit difficult to know you without any background info you know.

Drizzt stared flatly at the seemingly endless expanse of water around them, his gaze rather moody. In fact, he was in a mood so foul that even the mage avoided him-something that he managed quite easily, for he rarely ever came out of his gloomy study, preferring the quiet solitude.

The drow snorted. Of course the frail mage was sickly, he privately thought. The human looked like he had never taken a brisk hike just for fun-

"And he probably never has." He remarked wryly, as he stretched his stiff muscles, longing to take one himself. If anything, what he desperately wished for now was one nice large piece of land to hike. It was certainly unusual for him to have such a long period of inactivity, and he hoped that it did start to affect his ability.

Peterson was lazily dangling an impossibly long fishing line near the rail, having baited it with a rather bloody piece of some type of flesh that Drizzt preferred not to learn the name of. He had been trying to catch a "killer-fish" as he called it.

"Sleek, deadly killing machines." The man had claimed as Drizzt had asked him earlier his purpose. "Huge meat-eating fish with an even nastier maw. The blood leaves a trail to attract them."

The drow resisted the urge to gag. The twisted human had a rather sadistic humor. The elf was still hovering between trusting his words and discarding them as an attempt to play a joke based on his ignorance of the sea. Dimly, he recalled a time upon the Sea Sprite where he had seen ghostly gray shapes lazily circle a ship were battles were commenced. He shuddered, feeling pity for even their fallen enemies. To die or lie dying, and get eaten by giant fish…he winced at the graphic image that it created in his mind.

"Blast it all!" Peterson swore, and scrambled to barely latch onto the line as it violently jerked from his hands. Drizzt instantly sprang up, just as another jerk sent the man overboard. Peterson's screams pierced the air as there was a distant splash, and then frantic, almost hysterical calls for help rang out.

Drizzt, looked around, quickly snatching up a slender dirk that fell out from the man's sheath as he went overboard. He peered over the railing just as another scream pierced the air. It was shrill, agony and terror, primal and powerful. Peterson's tiny, rapidly paling face was staring beseechingly at him as an ominous crimson tainted the water around him. Even as Drizzt watched with horrified eyes, the man futilely clawed at the sides of the ship, the sea vessel still going steadily forward, with the force of a sea breeze behind the voluminous sails. To the man, it must have felt like a symbol of abandonment as his fingers slipped on the passing wood.

Without another thought, Drizzt stripped off his simple white shirt, ready to dive in after him, but a sudden touch on his arm, brought him to face the mage. The cold golden eyes were looking on the horrifying scene unfolding below with an inhuman, detached interest, almost as if it were nothing more than a fleeting distraction.

Upon seeing the mage, Peterson opened his mouth, perhaps to plead for the mage's magical assistance, but a swift flash of a murky gray form under the water only issued another terrible scream as the water around him became as red as blood.

Raistlin merely hooded his eyes at the scene, a gesture he might as well have used to keep the sunlight from striking his eyes. The mage sent Drizzt, a calm look that sent his message through more plainly than words could. _Give it up. The fool tempted fate and now he must pay._

The dark elf closed his eyes as yet another terror laced cry for help, considerably weaker now, reached his sensitive ears. When he opened them again, Raistlin was momentarily taken aback by the fire and determination in them.

"Never."

The drow went cleanly overboard, his strong back arched in a perfect swan dive that hit the water cleanly, barely causing ripples at the impact. Breaking the surface, he was at the wounded man's side with a single powerful stroke, briefly clasping Peterson's shoulder in reassurance as he yelled up to the distant mage.

"Pull him up!"

He did not wait for an answer before inhaling a deep breath of air, and he dipped below the surface. Ignoring the sting of salt water, he squinted through his eyes, now switched to infrared vision, as normal sight could hardly help him see through the crimson haze in the water.

Immediately, he registered two shapes circling just beyond his reach. He fought a brief wave of dismay. From the way that Peterson described the creatures, he heavily doubted that he could face on in the water, much less two working together. With a sickening feeling in his gut, he realized most of his advantages were useless, as they only worked on land.

He attacked first, a wary thrust of the dirk to the nearest killer-fish just to get an assessment of their capabilities. The creature slightly opened its jaws, bloodless strands of flesh still trailing between ominous rows of teeth as it lazily swerved away with a casual flick of its powerful tail. Oh great, they were intelligent too. Drizzt rolled his eyes. Why was it that with each successful battle, the next one would be stacked with even greater odds against him?

Suddenly, the pair both shot towards him in a synchronized manner, performing a perfect water version of a pincer movement to trap him. Drizzt forced himself to stay motionless until the very last second, in which, with a sudden flurry of movement, he shot above the trap, aided by the bracers upon his ankles. There was a tiny burst of blood as one of the killer-fish nicked its partner with its jaws. Drizzt squinted as the two snapped lightly at each other before parting, only to circle sinisterly below him, their eerie glassy eyes full of malice.

One killer-fish teasing broke off from the circling to barely touch Drizzt's toes with its blunt nose. The drow jerked his legs out of the creature's reach, then, in a flash of inspiration, he suddenly propelled himself forward and his fingers snared odd slit-lit openings around its neck. Immediately, the creature went berserk, thrashing around violently, only to have a large chunk of its delicate gill tissue torn out by the violence of its own maneuver. It shuddered in pain, slightly drifting, its jaws partially open as if trying to breath the water.

From the corner of his eye, Drizzt saw its companion approach. He fought the urge to race up to the surface at the critical moment, but his lungs were starved of air, and the edges of his vision began to slightly blur. Just as it was going to hit him, Drizzt shoved the wounded killer-fish towards its companion with the last of his strength.

The water below him roiled madly as the killer-fish tore a gaping hole in its wounded companions side. The warm blood gushed out, sending the other killer-fish into a killing frenzy as its companion stubbornly clamped its own jaws onto the uninjured killer-fish's fin, the teeth causing extreme pain to the creature's companion as it writhed in its death throes.

The remaining killer fish wiggled desperately, slowly being pulled down by the weight of its dead companion pulling down its fin. One glassy eye, fixed emptily on the drow, the remaining shark continued its futile struggle. Slowly but surely, the murderous pair sank under the murky depths, evanescent into the dark watery embrace of death.

A sudden, unexpected lurch to his stomach abruptly announced his flight to the deck of the ship. The magic buzzed pleasantly against his chilled skin, protecting him from the gusty breeze as he tried not to respond to the uncomfortable sense of weightlessness. He was carefully deposited on his feet, where Raistlin stood, a familiar scowl on his rather pale face. At the mage's feet, Peterson lay quietly, unconscious as his blood slowly pooled out around him.

"How is he?" The dark elf demanded, ignoring the tell-tale signs of danger on the mage's face. "Have you healed him with your power yet?"

There was an ominous silence before Raistlin coldly replied, venom clear in his soft voice.

"You, slave, have no right to disobey my orders, much less question my actions. A slave does not tell his Master to do anything. Perhaps I am being too gentle on you. You will stay confined to your cabin until I deem you have learned your lesson." The mage said clearly, without breaking down into a coughing fit, although his all to pale and strained face spoke of the immense effort it cost him. Raistlin was well aware of how confinement could be done to a fine art of mental torture, he knew that a ranger like Drizzt would hardly stand for it. "Go."

Drizzt stared silently back, defiance flaring in his eyes before stiffly marching towards his cabin, shutting the door all too silently, a good measure of the drow's anger reflected in the disciplined, controlled action.

Raistlin closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again with an obvious effort. Just as he took one step forward, he abruptly stumbled with weariness and landed on his side with an audible thud on the wooden deck, his breathing raspy and harsh, blood flecking his thin lips, Raistlin curled in slightly to himself as he could not contain his cough anymore. It erupted out of him with a vengeance, his frame shivering violently as the light slowly dimmed in his golden eyes, until they vanished altogether.

Obould grunted in approval as he eyed the huge ship floating in the makeshift harbor. The slaves had finally finished the laborious task of making it seaworthy. Some had paid for it with their lives. Their bones lay blackened in the fireplace, where some orcs, for the cruel fun of it, had roasted and eaten the dead in front of the laboring slaves. Needless to say, the progress had sufficiently quickened after that memorable episode. The remaining slaves were set loose into the forest upon Obould's orders…fitting game for his bored army.

Raising a crude horn to his thick lips, he blared a note, which was instantly copied by others waiting for the signal as a roar rose up from his troops.

Pointing a clawed finger at the mammoth ship patiently waiting to bear her loathsome load, he roared above the crowd.

"We board now!"

By the next few hours, all that would be left of the Orc army were blackened fire pits littered with bones, as a ship steadily disappeared towards the horizon.

Obould squinted into the fierce crimson glare of the dying sun. He imagined he could feel a scorching eye focused on him right now, echoes of the wondrous promises given loud in his mind.

"Look Master…We come."


	11. Just another tormented soul

_Lost._

_I have changed, so utterly, so totally. I, who use to stand out, now I am merely another face in the crowd. Hah. The irony of my situation. White against black, but who can see black against shadow? I was once pure, but I longed for the mysterious Shadow to claim me as its own. Death, betrayal…and power. How I hungered for it, to reign supreme, like some lost god of myth._

_How naïve I was._

_Foolish, I traded the burning light in my soul for the cold darkness. Yes, I could kill easy, causing fear among people. But it wasn't all that fulfilling, like I was only a detached view of the bloodbath I caused. All who once genuinely cared and would have sacrificed themselves for my sake…I destroyed. I can't stand their pity. Pity._

I don't know myself. Beautiful and cold on the outside. Tormented and suffering soul within. My heart has long been frozen, and I am indifferent as I get claimed and thrown away, like a trophy. Heh.

_But I can survive whatever cruel fate tosses to me._

_And I shall see the day that all I have suffered under are destroyed. Erased from existence._

_An apocalypse._

_For me._

Raistlin Majere

The only reason I tossed in this letter was to keep YOU, my faithful reviewers, entertained while I slave away at my homework. I MANDATE A NEW RULE. 5 REVIEWS A CHAPTER OR ELSE I WILL PUT OFF WRITING THE NEXT CHAPTER. WE DON'T WANT THAT TO HAPPEN DO WE?

Anyway, I started writing this thing just randomly, wondering what it would feel like to suddenly become one with the darkness. Suddenly, it struck me how beautifully this would fit Raistlin's psyche, so I did a little journal thing, like what Drizzt does in the real Forgotten Realm stories.

I'm still waiting for 2 more reviews on my last chappie, and 2 for this one…please. Think of what I would post up next people! Aren't you excited?

I'll lower the review quota down to 3 or 4 a chapter if 2 more people add me or the story to their favs.


	12. Sarcasm in the face of danger

Here's the stupid but important author's preface…

Okay **HumbleMaster**, what on earth is 'mörköjä'? You have me scratching my head over here -) You know, you should also get a account as well. It's so sad that some my most faithful reviewers are not members…you know, I'll be happy to accept your e-mail and such. Ah, and **DemonOfShadow**, I must admit, you are quite a "let poor Drizzt go crazy" type of person…me likes you. Hug How terrible it would be if I never knew such a loyal reviewer existed. Friends-)

THE REVIEWS ARE SLACKING. THIS IS A VERY BAD THING AS IT WILL SEVERELY SLOW DOWN MY POSTING RATE DUE TO THE LACK OF EMCOURAGEMENT AND APPRECIATION. **LadyJanelly, sYnergY's Duality, Redstarred191**, to name a few, you have reviewed once, please review again! I am so eager to hear your opinions.

Oh, I am lowering the review quota to 3 on this one since it's so darn short.

THIS CONTAINS NO SLASH.

**Ta-Da! Now I am finished babbling, here's the much anticipated update!**

"Mielikki save me."

A pause.

"…Mielikki kill me."

Drizzt groaned and looked hopefully at his blanket, inwardly musing if he could somehow turn it into a noose. The mage, Drizzt had firmly decided, ought to be slowly dunked in a pool of acid, feet first. That ought to give the mage a taste of what his medicine tasted like, except…

"This is even worse then dunked into acid."

He halfheartedly let out a string of dwarvish obscenities, colorful language that Bruenor himself had taught the drow. Despite himself, he faintly smiled at the memory. He had found himself once dunked into a snowdrift by an overexcited bunch of intoxicated dwarves. Each had drunk an entire barrel of strong dwarvish ale, he had later found out, shuddering at the very idea, which was the reason for singing in horribly off key voices as they crashed into Drizzt. Bruenor found him later still stuck rather deeply into the snowdrift, looking unusually undignified. The dwarf had burst into howling laughter as he tried half-heartedly to remove the drow, who was cursing mildly and primly under his breath at his luck. Just then, in pure mischief, Drizzt managed to grab to dwarf by his flaming red beard and chucked the stout king into the snowdrift with him. What he didn't expect was a string of curses so foul that the poor drow's ears were almost sizzling in the icy climate by the time Bruenor paused to take a breath.

Immediately after that incident, Bruenor had confronted him. Drizzt grinned, if he thought hard enough, he could almost hear the sturdy dwarf barking at him right now.

"Now what was it with those fancy words there?" The king had rubbed furiously at his flaming beard as he squinted suspiciously at Drizzt. "Abysmal? Incompetent?" A great snort managed to escape the incredulous dwarf's lips. "Don't tell me that was the best you could do."

Unfortunately, it was.

And the hapless drow immediately found himself dragged into every ale party that Bruenor could manage to throw, in which he invited foul mouthed dwarves to brawl out their most offensive curses in contests, each trying to teach the dark elf "The fine art of cursing".

Suddenly, the dark elf became aware of a low roaring noise, almost like a hollow boom of thunder at regular intervals, gradually getting louder and louder. Squinting uneasily, the drow tried to think were he had last heard such an oddly familiar noise. And then, it hit him.

The surf.

His heart pounding in excitement, he strained to listen in the silence and was awarded with a giant boom of waves crashing against rocky shores. Land! Finally, they had reached beloved, solid earth.

Except for one very important little fact that suddenly made itself known screaming in the drow's mind.

There was no noise to indicate anyone preparing to land.

Immediately, Drizzt flung open the door and raced to the main deck, were he found, to his horror, Peterson lying dull eyed and unmoving, and an unconscious mage collapsed further on the deck.

"Lloth, you maggot!" Drizzt growled as he desperately raced to Peterson's side, futilely trying to find a pulse. The only man capable of guiding the ship had evidently died of blood loss. All too aware of the jagged rocks ahead seemingly waiting for their hapless prey to crash and sink into them, Drizzt abandoned the corpse and took Raistlin's shoulders into his hands, shaking the limp body.

"Wake up!" Drizzt shouted, barely able to make his voice out from the roaring of the surf. "Wake up!"

Raistlin was dimly aware of a loud noise and a violent action piercing the gray fog around his mind. He moaned, a headache like a million splinters were being stabbed into his skull robbing him of capable thought.

His eyelids wearily fluttered open to see an ethereal vision before him, almost primal in its natural beauty. Like an angel. Was he in heaven now?

"Finally, you're awake! We're seconds from being splintered on sharp rocks!" The figure briefly shifted so that Raistlin could see huge towering rocks stabbing viciously up from the frothing water that pounded itself explosively on the structures.

Ah. Evidently not.


	13. I'm a very sorry author

I just want to apologize. I recently got a review that told me not to demand reviews. I truly write the story for the sheer fun of it, but I want to actually know that people are reading. From now on, I will not demand reviews. Although the comment really hurt, I appreciate having people tell me that demanding reviews are not acceptable. Thank you.


	14. On a Spire

Thanks for all your support and comments folks! In case you were wondering, this is no slash for the entire story. Since I already had Drizzt say "I love you" to Catti-Brie, I can't let the darn elf go around being unfaithful…heh. Gosh, DemonOfShadow, how is it that you come up with such deep analysis? I thought I would be the only one to get the irony of his situation, since I was the one who wrote it! Oh well, at least I know not to underestimate the I.Q. of the people these…somewhere around the level of the likes of a literary Albert Einstein…

The ship lurched violently, carried by the explosive force of the waves as it sailed to her doom. Wood groaned and creaked as it was strained to its limit, sounding as if the ship was screaming in pain. Raistlin painfully tried to stand, helped by a tense but collected Drizzt, as he barely maintained his balance on the wildly tilting deck. The spray whipped viciously at their bodies, feeling like tiny needles as they lashed themselves with a primitive fury against the pair.

"My books." Raistlin rasped, his voice curt and he tried to make it into his room. Drizzt's face twisted in disbelief. Here they were, ready to die in the gruesome process of being splintered upon rocks, and all the mage could think about were his precious books! The mage was feebly thrusting out his staff for balance, making agonizingly slow process.

Drizzt grabbed Raistlin's shoulder. "Where is it?" The drow cried over the din of the surf, wincing at how the loud voice strained on his throat. "I can get to them faster than you!"

"No," Raistlin started to say, instinctively. They were his, his alone, and no one would ever touch them except for him. But then, he realized that he probably couldn't save them if he was going to die in the time it would take for him to fetch them. Swallowing his selfish pride, he said, "The leather trunk. Here's the key," His hands fumbled for the ever present key he wore on his neck, and gingerly let it fall into the drow's waiting hands. "It's the thickest book. Gold cover. Don't read it, or else you will unleash something that very well might doom the entire world."

Drizzt nodded grimly before springing forward, trusting that the mage would manage to survive momentarily without him. He opened the jammed door with a well-placed kick and went down the corridor, his balance put to a grueling test as he tried to avoid having his head smashed into the walls with each violent roll of the doomed ship. Door would randomly swing open and close, threatening to crash into his face as he narrowly dodged them.

Finally, he found the mage's room and pushed in, panting from the ordeal as he quickly knelt down by the trunk and smoothly inserted the key. The lock sprang open and Drizzt reached in, triumphant as he clutched the spellbook under his arm.

He stumbled out just as time seemed to stop and a sickening crunch was heard. A shudder ran through the ship's wooden frame as it slammed, bow first, into a rock spire. Raistlin's body jerked at the impact and crashed against the rails-in which the weakened wood collapsed under even that small an extra weight and the mage disappeared over the edge.

Drizzt barely managed to blink as the whole incident flashed before his eyes, and he found himself sliding down the deck as the ship tilted sharply, battered by huge waves as she began sinking rapidly in the hungry maw of the sea. Just as he prepared himself for the inevitable meeting of flesh and rock, a faint light danced over his skin as he was slowly lifted into the air.

To his utmost surprise, the mage was also floating upwards, face pale and covered with a thin sheen of sweat as the staff in Raistlin's hands pulsed with power, the same power also lifting both of them up to land on one of the bigger, sturdier rock spires.

As they floated down to the rock spire, Drizzt noted gratefully that there was, thankfully, a slight depression on the face of the rock where it was roomy, yet sheltered from the wind. There was, Drizzt found, elated, even a small pool of musty rainwater collected in the very middle of the depression, just enough to refresh and restore their strength. More accurately, the mage's strength, Drizzt thought wryly, since only the mage's rejuvenated power could get them to the mainland from the spire.

They barely touched down when Raistlin opened his golden eyes and thrusted ought an eager, almost desperate hand for his book. Drizzt tossed it wearily over and the mage smoothed his hand over the cover, slumping in relief as he let his staff fall at his feet, dark shadows of exhaustion under his eyes.

"Tell me, mage," Drizzt said, "How will the slaver know how to give my friends the antidote if you cannot send messages to him?"

Raistlin frowned inwardly. He had never heard of an antidote in the exchange for the drow. Oh well, at least he could use this piece of information for his own knowledge and use.

"See that patch of sky at the very tip of the horizon?" Raistlin said. When Drizzt nodded, he continued. "Do you see that…dim…light almost hidden by the light of the brightest star?"

"Yes. What about it?"

"I created it." Raistlin said with a crooked smile. "When that star disappears, it means the spell maintaining it is gone, and that spell is connected with my lifeforce. If I die, he shall stop giving antidote to your friends."

Drizzt gritted his teeth in frustration. Was he suppose to protect the mage, his "master" for the rest of the mortal's life then? If the mage died, then it would be like he himself struck the killing blow to all the Companions of the Hall-especially Catti-Brie. He felt a tingle through his body as he thought of the fiercely beautiful adoptive daughter of Bruenor, with her pure and strong spirit that shone as brightly as any star.

But Drizzt thought as he gazed at the obviously weakened mage, who had nodded off into a weary slumber while the drow brooded, that he would not mind guarding the mage. There was something that drew Drizzt towards him, perhaps the look on his face when he slept that night in Drizzt's comforting arms, a look of peace on his face, the lips slightly curved in a faint, genuine smile. Of course, the mage had built up formidable defenses, and the drow had no doubt that it would take quite a while before he would ever see the look on the mage's face again.

Arrogance.

Well, Drizzt thought, sighing as he did so, perhaps a _very_ long time before Raistlin would put down his ever-present guard.

He shrugged off his forest green cloak, rather battered after its journey, but at least not damp, having stayed miraculously dry during the entire ordeal. The drow then proceeded to drape the cloak over the mage's slumbering form before leaning against a rock and slipped into a light snooze, ready to wake at the faintest noise or feeling of danger.

And so it was in such a fashion that they came to Middle Earth…


End file.
